


Sweet Dreams, First Enchanter

by Solitae



Series: Lilian Hawke, mage revolutionary [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:25:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solitae/pseuds/Solitae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lilian's musings to Isabela about the First Enchanter lead to a late-night visit. This takes place between Act II and Act III. Unapologetic smut just for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams, First Enchanter

**Author's Note:**

> _Much appreciation to[Drakontion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakontion) for the hard work as a beta._

“You should have seen him,” Lilian purred as she tilted her head up to grin at Isabela.

The hour had grown late with the two of them lounging comfortably on the floor in the library. A fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth, and they passed a bottle of brandy between them, or tipped it to the other’s lips, or shared it in lazy kisses. Neither seemed inclined to move: too content, too relaxed, and too close to drunk to even consider it.

“Mmm, is that so?” the pirate murmured, her free arm pulling Hawke back against her. That lop-sided smile lured her in, and Isabela’s lips grazed the corner of her mouth, tasting the brandy on her.

Lilian’s head lolled back, nestling comfortably between Isabela’s breasts, tilted just enough to find the pirate’s mouth fully. A pleased sound that might have been an answer slipped from her, but it was muffled, Lilian giving Isabela no chance to find out as the mage’s thin fingers curled into her hair to prevent escape.

“You’re changing the subject,” whispered Isabela against Hawke’s mouth when they slowly parted.

“I like this subject,” muttered the mage, her blue-green eyes wide with feigned innocence as she tried to claim Isabela’s bottom lip with her teeth.

The pirate jerked back with a laugh, and her hand shot out to grab one of Lilian’s pigtails, holding her at bay. “Oh, no, sweetness. You don’t get to escape that easily,” she cooed, keeping her lips just out of reach. “I want to hear just how this paragon of manli- er, elfenhood? mageliness? got your smalls in a twist while the Qunari were tearing down the city around your ears. There _has_ to be a story.”

Lilian grinned, her eyes slightly glazed with drink, and with a content murmur she sank back against Isabela again. “Mmm, well, we had decided to distract the Qunari to get into the Keep,” the smile that crept over her lips was far too pleased. “His idea, but Meredith was complaining. He turned to her and said, cool as can be ‘Have confidence, Knight-Commander’.”

Her nose wrinkled to hear her own impersonation of the First Enchanter, and Isabela arched an eyebrow doubtfully. “That’s it?”

“I can’t sound like him!” Lilian complained with a pout, her fingertips teasing along the pirate’s bared thighs. “His voice...I could feel it down to my toes, rumbling through my spine-”

“And other places too, I’ll wager,” Isabela teased.

Hawke’s tongue poked out at her. “That too. Mmm, then he marched out in front of the Qunari, entirely alone, and without batting an eye, blasted the bastards until they charged him.” Laughter spilled from her as she shook her head against Isabela. “Nothing like a Qunari flying through the air.”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “Ahhh, so he did something completely stupid,” she muttered.

Lilian smirked up at her, “I like people who do stupid things.”

For an instant, silence loomed between them, and an uncomfortable look crossed Isabela’s dark face. They didn’t talk about it. Ever. Isabela wasn’t about to make an exception now.

“So I’ve noticed,” her voice had a slight edge to it, but she forced it away before continuing, her usual smile curling over her lips slowly. “Why is it you haven’t managed to lure him into your web, hmm? You’re not exactly...” Isabela’s tongue flicked over her lips tauntingly. “...shy.”

Lilian deflated against her with a dejected sigh, pouting theatrically. “I haven’t been able to get him alone,” she complained, nails continuing their tease just above Isabela’s boots. “If I invited him here, Meredith would send templars along. With my luck, she’d send _Carver_.”

Isabela snorted at the thought, her hands dipping down to capture Hawke’s before the misbehaving mage could distract her. “And when you visit him, then she’s always across the hall in her office.”

Hawke chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Maybe Keran could tell me when he sneaks out...”

“But if he’s sneaking out, your templar might not know.”

An annoyed scowl crossed Lilian’s face, and she pressed back discontentedly against Isabela, her brow drawn in thought. The pirate’s sudden pleased sound jolted her, Hawke startling at her loud snap. “Didn’t Anders show you a way into the Gallows? Surely she’s not listening at Orsino’s door at night.”

Temptation flickered through Lilian’s somewhat inebriated mind, and that was how the two women found themselves in the tunnels under the Gallows in the middle of the night.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, brilliant actually once Lilian realized she had Chantry robes stuffed away in her room, but when Isabela misjudged a dagger strike at a lyrium smuggler and Lilian’s lightning fizzled too quickly, they realized that it might not have been so amazing.

“Sod it,” muttered Hawke when they finally dispatched their attackers. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, just able to gather enough focus to cast a light rejuvenation spell on herself. Another quickly followed in Isabela’s direction, and they both sagged against the stone walls, staring at each other in disbelief.

Lilian was the first to break, and a low snorted laugh spilled from her. “Andraste’s tits, we’re insane,” she whispered, her giggling slowly infecting Isabela.

The pirate muffled hers behind her hand, but her eyes glittered as her head fell back against the wall, slowly shaking. “This is all your fault, Lil,” she groaned.

“You’re the one who suggested it!”

“I wasn’t the one mooning over the mage!” The pirate cooed mockingly, “Oh, his voice!”

Lilian shot her a broad grin as she pushed up from the wall. “Well, we’re nearly inside anyway...”

\--------------

Sleep eluded him, as it did so often these days, and after an hour of rearranging his blankets and pillows, the First Enchanter gave up. Shrugging into a dressing gown, he wandered to his window to stare into the dark silent courtyard as his thoughts whirled. With a sigh, he let him his forehead rest against the cool glass.

His door whispered on its hinges, and the mage jumped, an absurd stab of guilt rippling through him. What was he, an apprentice to be scolded for being out of bed? Orsino spun to face the intruder, his lips tight with annoyance at having his room invaded this time of night. _Bloody grasping templars_...only, his visitor wasn’t a templar. It, apparently, was a cowled Chantry sister (or perhaps brother, but the hips had a decidedly feminine shape to them).

“Sister,” he greeted with cool respect even as his brow lifted questioningly. “Are you lost?”

“Not anymore,” she murmured in a voice throaty with satisfaction. The shadows seemed to move around her as she pushed the door closed behind her and lounged against it, hips canted.

Her tone and her pose put lie to her robes, and Orsino frowned as he tried to place her voice.

Her quiet laugh sounded strange in his hushed chambers. “I suppose it is more customary to sneak _out_ of the Gallows than into it,” she teased.

Realization hit him just as she pushed her hood back. As it fell to her shoulders, Orsino stared into the Champion’s dancing blue-green eyes, so full of mischief that he nearly laughed himself. A slow grin spread over his lips at the sight of her tattooed face and ridiculous pigtails.

The shadows around her shifted again, and he discovered that she was not alone. Hawke’s pirate draped herself around the woman’s shoulder with a contented purr. “You’re right, Lil,” she breathed, bold eyes locked on Orsino’s. “There _is_ something about him.”

He felt a slight heat rise to his cheeks that he hadn’t felt in ages, and he suppressed it in an attempt to regain some composure...a surprisingly difficult thing under two pairs of predatory eyes.

“I told you,” Hawke murmured with one arm sliding around the other woman’s waist affectionately. “Orsino, I don’t believe you’ve met Isabela, my...”

“Her lover, drinking companion, and participant in _all_ her best adventures,” Isabela finished for her as she slipped free of Hawke’s arm to stalk toward the First Enchanter.

He arched an eyebrow at the pirate and held her gaze levelly as she swept in toward him. “A pleasure, Isabela,” he greeted warmly. “Hawke is a woman of fine taste.”

Isabela’s lips broke into a sultry grin. “Oh, don’t I know it,” she purred, dark eyes flickering appreciatively over the enchanter in a way that stirred his blood far more than he wished to admit.

His attention slid back to Hawke who still lounged against his door, her bright eyes studying them both with amusement. Maker, she looked odd in Chantry robes. In any robes. Because she wore trousers usually, not because...Sweet Andraste, he was as bad as the templars.

Clearing his throat, Orsino smiled at her, trying not to shiver as Isabela slid closer to his shoulder. “Was there something you needed, Hawke?” Though he tried to cover the faint tremor in his voice, he knew by her smug grin that she had heard it.

“Lilian,” she corrected.

Nails along his jaw made him jump, and he blinked at Isabela who let her fingers trail slowly down his neck. The enchanter swiftly grabbed her wrist and yanked it away, trying to pin her with his best authoritative glare.

The pirate just laughed, and Orsino felt Hawke smirking at them both.

“Lilian, then, but that still doesn’t answer the question.” A touch of impatience crept into his voice along with a slow tingling in his arm. Isabela had twisted her hand in his, her nails tracing over the inside of his wrist.

The Champion of Kirkwall dressed in Chantry robes pushed off his door with her eyes intently locked on his and a hungry smile on her lips. “We thought, Orsino,” his name was a caress in her mouth, and he felt it thrum through him, “you might enjoy some company.”

 _Company._ The way she lingered over the word left no doubt what she meant, her implications enforced as Lilian regarded him through her dark lashes. The stirrings their presence had already provoked hit him with full force, and his lips parted as his skin flushed, his dressing gown suddenly feeling as though it covered little.

Somehow, he had never expected this. True, Hawke...Lilian had visited him frequently in the year since she’d been named Champion, once or twice a month usually. Always playful, warm and full of sly smiles, she gave him bits of news of the outside world he might not hear otherwise or shared interesting books and trinkets with him. Orsino had _thought_ he knew why too; what better way to rub her status in Meredith’s face than to wander freely in and out of the Gallows? But now...

A slow finger tracing the blade of his ear jolted him from his thoughts, and he heard a pleased wordless murmur at his shoulder as Isabela continued her lazy exploration. Another hand, cooler, smaller and with magic lurking beneath the surface grazed his jaw.

“We weren’t mistaken, were we, Orsino?” Lilian whispered as she slunk near, and he could feel the warmth of the pair curling around him. They smelled of brandy and sin, and he welcomed their temptation.

“I’m certain we weren’t,” breathed Isabela, her lips just a hair away from grazing his ear.

“Not in the least, my sweet friends,” Orsino murmured, his voice finally returning to him. His sharp green eyes boldly held the Champion’s as he tilted his head into her hand. Hungrily, his lips graced her palm, slowly gliding their way up her fingers, his tongue just teasing the tips. He swore he heard her breath catch. “You are both incredibly thoughtful.”

 _Thoughtful._ Yes, that was exactly what they were.

Isabela nestled against his back, and he sank against her lush body as her fingers skimmed around him, slowly loosening the sash of his dressing gown. Maker, she was warm. The Gallows were always cold, and with her pressing into him, the chill that had gripped him for years seemed to melt away.

Lilian, however, hadn’t moved, the Champion staring at him with hungry wonder in her eyes...as if she’d imagined this and couldn’t quite grasp that it was happening. Now that was a gratifying thought.

Orsino’s lips curved as he brought her hovering hand near his mouth. His sharp teeth grazed her wrist, and she rewarded him with a small throaty gasp as her lips parted and her arm quivered. “Come now, Lilian,” he teased against her skin, a touch of his tongue punctuating his words. “Surely you’re not shy...” Her breath definitely hitched that time.

Isabela’s low laugh resonated through him, and she stage-whispered in his ear, her eyes on Lilian all the while. “I think she’s just admiring you, Orsino.”

He arched a brow at Lilian questioningly who smiled without a word. Her eyes pointedly wandered down from his face, and the pirate took her cue. With a tug, the enchanter’s sash ceased to do its job, his dressing gown sliding open.

“Not that I blame her...”

Heat rose in him, spreading over his chest and pooling lower as she deliberately drank in the view. Isabela’s warm hands made certain his clothing spilled open enough for them both to see the effect they were having on the enchanter, and when Lilian’s gaze landed that low, a fresh surge of blood answered her.

Her lips curved into a lop-sided smirk. “You really are quite delicious, Orsino,” Lilian purred, and his eyes locked on her tongue darting out to wet her lips...or they did, for a moment, until he felt a warm hand close around his length.

His eyes rolled at the sudden touch, the mage sinking back against Isabela again. Before he could recover, a second hand joined the first, so sharply different that he jerked, startled. Restrained magic surged beneath Lilian’s cooler skin, and her touch was lighter, feathery strokes playing along the underside.

Lilian closed against him, pinning Orsino to Isabela, the soft fabric of her robe teasing against his bare skin..but it wasn’t the robe he wanted to feel.

He forced his eyes open to study the face so near his, her lips lingering but a breath away as the pirate’s warm hand grazed his collarbone, sweeping his dressing gown off his shoulder. Working with Isabela, he freed one arm from the garment only to feel her lips and teeth playing at the curve of his neck.

Despite their delicious distractions, Orsino forced himself to focus, and as his eyes sharpened, he felt the faintest tremor creep through the mage pressed against his chest. The flush on her cheeks deepened, spreading down her neck. His hand snapped to her jaw, gripping it roughly.

“I think, Lilian,” his voice was ragged, but he forced command into it. Play with them, yes; be their toy, absolutely not. “You should remove those robes. Now.”

Her reaction was immediate, and Orsino felt it all: the quick in-breath, her stomach tightening, an instinctive tiny twist of her hips, a ripple in her tightly controlled magic. Lilian’s eyes dipped for an instant, and the heat of her body flared as Isabela chuckled knowingly against his neck.

“Mmm, your voice does have an adorable effect on her, Orsino,” she whispered approvingly, her gaze sliding away from him to sweep over Lilian. “Especially that tone.”

Lilian glared at them both, and Orsino smirked back, casually slipping off his dressing gown the rest of the way. “I would have to agree, my dear,” he murmured, tipping his head back to rest it against the pirate’s shoulder, his lips casually brushing her jaw. “But the real question is whether she’ll be a good girl.”

“Oh, she will,” Isabela answered confidently. Her arm draped over his shoulder, warm fingers stroking casually over her chest in a fashion that had him melting again, relaxed, amused. “Eventually.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Lilian snapped, but the heat in her voice wasn’t annoyance precisely.

“Oh, we know,” Orsino took the initiative to respond, his lips curling smugly. “Surely, after going to all this trouble to sneak in here, you’re not going to balk now, are you, Lilian?” He made certain he sounded utterly reasonable and perfectly in control as he stared intently at Hawke. He felt Isabela smirk against his neck, and he let a hand fall back, fingertips just grazing the woman’s hip.

Lilian’s brow furrowed as she continued to glare at them both. Clearly, their dear Champion knew they had turned her game around on her, but she seemed uncertain how to spin it her direction again. Or perhaps she wasn’t entirely sure she wished to.

Letting her stew, Orsino turned his head toward Isabela, his lips parted in invitation. She was quick to take it, her mouth crushing greedily against him as her nails dug at his chest. Her lower hand tightened, and his hips rolled against her fingers, the taste of brandy and spice and the sea flooding his mouth.

A groan that was from neither of them rang through the room, and as Isabela broke away from his lips with a grin, he saw Lilian staring at them, breath ragged, her teeth digging into her bottom lip.

“Maker take you both!” she swore. Her hands shot to the top belt on the Chantry robe, and Orsino could see them trembling as she worked to loosen the ties that held it to her.

“I told you,” crooned Isabela, provoking a low murmur from him as her tongue traced the line of his long ear. Before he could respond further, she slunk away to help Hawke with much steadier hands.

Orsino opted to watch for the moment, the familiarity between them as their hands moved over each other intoxicating. As Isabela smoothly swept the robes away from Lilian, he realized the pirate was subtly, and quite expertly, soothing away the defiance that threatened to break the surface with touches and murmurs that Lilian couldn’t seem to help responding to.

“Damn traitor,” Hawke’s voice raised just enough for him to hear it clearly, and he tilted his head curiously.

“Ungrateful wench,” countered Isabela with a smirk, affection clear in her voice. “Shut up and let Orsino take a proper look at you. You know you want him to.”

Lilian apparently had no response to that, or if she had, the pirate’s swift twist of her arms to trap the Champion’s wrists behind her back silenced it. Isabela cradled the smaller woman against herself and shot Orsino an inviting smile.

He was looking, oh yes. He could not have torn his eyes away, not with Lilian arched back against the darker pirate, nothing to hide her from his weighing gaze. Color painted her pale cheeks, spilling down her neck and chest, and her pointed chin quivered slightly as Lilian struggled to right her breathing. Her bright eyes, normally so defiant, lingered on the floor, as if she could not bear seeing Orsino’s study of her.

A thick silvery scar beneath her left breast stood out, and he knew that one. The Arishok had made a good attempt to take out her heart, and she’d only managed to heal it enough to keep herself in the duel. A few other scars littered her lean body, Lilian more coltish out of clothing than she was in it .. her limbs slightly too long and thin, her hips angular where Isabela’s curved.

Orsino simply smirked as he closed the distance between them, his eyes never wavering from her. “A sight I never imagined I would see,” he whispered, lifting a hand to trace the line of her neck slowly. Her shiver was delicious, and he felt her stomach clench as he pressed into her. Bare skin greeted him this time, and he pulsed against her, luxuriating in the sensation. Scarcely restrained magic vibrated between them, the resonance coursing over his spine and dancing along his skin.

He dipped his head, breathing in her scent as his lips hovered near her neck. Beneath the brandy and desire Lilian smelled of trees, wild green growing things; and he sucked in a deep breath, drawing her in. Orsino’s lips tore over her neck roughly, eliciting a hiss from her that sent her head falling back against Isabela hard as she lurched up against him.

Blood sang in the Champion’s veins, and he could feel it pulsing against his lips as he growled into her throat. Hunger, want, _need_ pounded in his skull, the tendrils lancing through his body, and all he desired was to touch her, taste her...and he did without hesitation.

Orsino swept his mouth over her shoulder in a searing trail as his hands found her hips. They dragged upward, palms flat as they followed the planes of her stomach, and he barely heard the throaty cry he wrenched from her. As his fingers rose higher, he felt each rib and the roughness of her scar beneath his fingers.

Demanding hands curled into her chest, and he lifted his head, tongue flicking over his lips as he met Isabela’s heavy-lidded gaze. The pirate was staring intently, watching them both with undisguised desire while she kept Lilian’s hands pinned. Her lips curved knowingly at him, and she offered a small nod as she pressed a lingering kiss against the corner of Hawke’s mouth.

Lilian’s eyes were glazed, her tattoos glittering in the dim light, lips hanging open for she’d apparently forgotten to breathe for the moment. Orsino’s thumbs feathered over her nipples experimentally; she shivered blissfully, arching into his hands as she murmured wordlessly. The flash of a hungry smile over her lips jolted through him, and he watched as her head turned, claiming Isabela’s mouth in a slow smouldering press.

Once the sight had seared itself into his memory, he bent, ruthlessly capturing her nipple with his mouth. Isabela muffled Lilian’s harsh gasp, but he felt the mage go taut, the muscles in her stomach clenching. Chuckling, he played over the sensitive bud with his teeth and tongue, and she rose up on her toes, her hips twisting. Isabela wrenched her arms harder to keep Lilian from escaping while she slotted one leg forward, forcing her captive to widen her stance.

Lilian’s whimper echoed through the enchanter’s small room as Isabela pulled back. Orsino glanced up at the pirate, and he smirked at her wicked grin. Silently, she nodded, her eyes pointedly dipping lower on Lilian in invitation; his hand followed her suggestion, slowly raking down Lilian’s tensed stomach. Her head snapped up when his fingers trailed steadily lower, and as pliable as she’d become in Isabela’s arms, Orsino felt a challenge in her gaze.

“Insolent as ever, my Champion, hmm?” he murmured with a clear refusal to look away.

“Always,” she breathed, mischief in her voice. Isabela snorted against her neck, teeth and lips wandering playfully.

Lilian’s eyes lidded heavily, and she shivered beneath his hand, but he knew she was watching...watching as his hand made its way past her stomach. Without hesitation, he slid his hand between her parted thighs, a surge of heat and need meeting his fingers. A throaty sound broke past her lips, and Orsino couldn’t help chuckling as his finger delved deeper. Maker, she was wound up, a fire engulfing his hand.

He leisurely gave her a few slow strokes, savoring the needy lift of her hips and the low cries that she couldn’t bite back. Hunger dragged him against her, his finger curling slightly as he crushed his lips against her open mouth, letting himself devour her lips and tongue as her magic hummed with his.

It surged with every little twist of his fingers, and her gasps poured into his mouth as his body glided against her. Abruptly, her hands plunged into his hair, and he groaned as her nails dug into his scalp. Another pair of hands slithered over them, the heat gliding from hip to shoulder, curling sharply here and there with a scrape of nails.

Isabela thrust forward behind Lilian, that brief pressure causing skin to shift against skin. Blood pounded in his ears, his chest tight as he broke roughly away from Lilian’s mouth with a low growl. His fingers caught her jaw, and he watched her writhe as Isabela bit the side of her neck, the clench around his lower fingers letting him know just how delicious that felt.

A low ragged laugh spilled from him, and suddenly, they were moving, tumbling toward the bed. Lilian landed on it first, hands stretched out to catch herself when a shove from Isabela nearly sent her sprawling. She arched her hips deliberately as she peered over her shoulder at them, and Orsino found himself staring at the shapely backside canted just so. Temptress.

Isabela slithered onto the bed next to her, sprawling on her back, and Lilian pounced quickly, her practiced fingers unlacing the pirate’s bodice. Hawke seemed ravenous for her lover, her hands raking hard down Isabela’s sides as her mouth claimed those dark breasts with rough bites and suckling kisses. Isabela’s hand wound through Lilian’s dark hair as the other dipped lower, her fingertips just visible to Orsino as they stroked between Lilian’s legs.

The pair filled the room with their sounds, with their hunger, and he was enthralled by the sight. As one hand darted beneath Isabela’s smallclothes, the pirate’s low moan pooled at the base of his spine. The hand in Lilian’s hair jerked her head up, forcing her to look at Orsino, and her eyes rolled back, Isabela timing the plunge of her fingers perfectly. Lilian’s desperate whimper stirred him to action, and he swept forward, both hands roughly grasping her hips.

His patience was at an end, his body demanding far more than teasing and watching. Blood sang in his ears, and he slammed into Lilian’s depths nearly before Isabela’s fingers slid out of the way. She laughed as she clamped her hand over Hawke’s mouth just in time to muffle a low shriek from her, the Champion’s entire body twisting with his sudden invasion. A wicked grin flashed over Isabela’s face as her free hand yanked away her smalls, her eyes locked on Hawke’s intently.

Orsino gave Lilian no time to adjust, depriving her of nearly all of his length before he slammed hard into her again. Her choked cry lit through his veins, and a feral grin crossed his lips. Isabela’s hand shot from Lilian’s mouth to her hair, jerking the mage’s head down roughly as the pirate fell back against the bed. Lilian’s stifled moans spilled between her lover’s thighs, the mage clutching desperately to Isabela’s hips as a dark haze of magic danced over her fingers.

Orsino pulled back slowly, the tension in the apostate’s thighs as he stole her pleasure from her drawing a smirk from him. With her safely muffled against Isabela, he let go of what little control remained and ground into Lilian. There was no rhythm, just the pure fury of need crushing her between him and Isabela. Her throaty cries spilled into the other woman, and a hissing Isabela fell back, eyes tightly closed.

Distantly, he felt Lilian’s writhing turn taut, every muscle quivering on the edge, heard Isabela’s stifled moans, but they all seemed small things compared to the impossible pleasures burning through him. His nails tore into Lilian’s hips, and he came undone with an unearthly cry and a violent blast of lightning. Eyes still rolled back, mouth hanging open with his yell, he collapsed atop her. They collapsed into the bed, Lilian gasping beneath him, her body still shuddering with unending waves.

How long they lay there, a tangle of limbs and unsteady breathing, he couldn’t have said. Even Isabela was replete, her head lolling against the headboard, her fingers absently curling through Lilian’s dark hair. She trembled beneath him, and he found his lips wandering over her shoulders and neck lazily, luxuriating in the little shivers each touch brought to her too-sensitive skin.

With a low groan, he finally rolled off her, and stared at them both. Lilian recovered enough to slide up against Isabela, her lips wandering affectionately against that dark skin until her head rested against the woman’s chest, a smugly satisfied smile on her face. Isabela’s arms curled around the smaller mage with a surprising hint of possessiveness, and her head dipped, chin resting on Hawke’s hair.

He chuckled at them both, too exhausted to move, but there was a faint stirring of disappointment when they finally shifted off his bed. He dozed as he watched them dress, eyelids impossibly heavy, his body sinking into the bed. Lips touched his lightly, and a breath fluttered over his ear. “Sweet dreams, First Enchanter.” And he heard the door whisper on its hinges, closing behind them.


End file.
